


chain me to your heart's desire

by togetherwecouldbealright



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Crimes & Criminals, Fluff, M/M, Nurses & Nursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 21:44:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1914894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/togetherwecouldbealright/pseuds/togetherwecouldbealright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> “I can handle the pain,” Louis reassures before he grins. “What about you, Harry? Do you like pain?” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>For a moment, Harry is too flustered to reply because Louis is awfully gorgeous and somehow even more so when he’s smiling. “Love it,” he replies without thinking and then turns ten shades darker, ducking his head as Louis laughs delightedly.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Oh, I like you,” Louis declares before gesturing towards his arm again. “Patch me up, doc.” </i>
</p><p>Harry is somewhat familiar with hearts. Louis is somewhat familiar with stealing. The only thing Louis ever steals from Harry is his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	chain me to your heart's desire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [louisxharry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/louisxharry/gifts).



> Thank you to my wonderful as always beta Holly. Title from The Cab's 'Lock Me Up'. I hope everyone enjoys! Especially ao3 user louisxharry. :)

When Harry first sees him, he's cursing like his life depends on it as his mates flank him on either side, worried expressions on all of their faces. He's also clutching at his arm, eyes wide and both his jeans and shirt are ripped in various different places. Other than that, he has a fringe the color of caramel, eyes the color of the sea and skin that looks as if it was dipped in the sun. When Harry first sees him, he just _knows_ that there's no going back.

—

“Go on, I’ll take care of it,” Lou reassures, patting his shoulder and Harry pouts, shaking his head.

“It’s really no big deal, I can—” Harry starts to argue but he’s cut off as she physically pushes him out of the examination room.

“Your break started five minutes ago. I’ll deal with this, okay? You barely take any time to rest anyways. Just do me a favor and get some food into you so I don’t worry about you falling over instead of the actual people I should be worrying about,” Lou instructs and Harry sighs but does as he’s told.

He waves at the man he was attending to right before he goes and the man offers him a small smile.

Harry likes that about his job. Even though a lot of the time there’s more tears than smiles, the smiles that he does get to see are completely genuine.

As one of the youngest nurses in their department, he gets a fair share of yelling patients as well as happy ones, but at the end of the day, he likes it.

He likes that he gets to help people feel better.

When he gets to the faculty lunchroom, he grabs an apple from the fruit bowl and sits down, grabbing the remote and turning on the flat screen they have hanging on the wall.

Sitting in a chair across from him is another nurse, Ivy, who offers him a nod as she continues to read the book in her lap. The lunchroom is usually more crowded but that’s when it’s actually lunch and not near midnight.

He smiles at her before his eyes flicker over to the television where the news is on and he raises the volume before setting the remote down.

On the news, the reporter on the screen points behind her at a bank and says, “It seem that the infamous Tommo has struck again. He and the rest of his group stole nearly thirty million pounds this time around. Police are still investigating but as per usual, they’ve left nothing behind apart from a horse mask.”

Harry raises an eyebrow and takes another bite of his apple. In the back of his mind, he’s imagining a bunch of old men walking around in horse masks, stealing millions of pounds and the image is so funny that he finds he’s started giggling to himself quietly.

Ivy casts him a dubious look but she doesn’t say anything so Harry doesn’t bother to explain himself as he continues to watch the news.

“A witness says that the Tommo was injured but we cannot confirm or deny this as the film from the security cameras were replaced with… videos of a different nature.”

Harry does actually laugh this time because he has good feeling that by ‘video of a different nature’, she means porn.

He’s heard about the Tommo and his crew before. They’re a bunch of men who rob banks, stealing hundreds of thousands of pounds every single fortnight without fail. Harry has no idea how or why but then again, he doesn’t know much of anything that doesn’t involve his job, yoga, social media or healthy food.

That’s a good variety of things in Harry’s opinion. He thinks he’ll leave the illegal stuff to the criminals like the Tommo.

Once he finishes his apple, he grabs another one and then waves goodbye to Ivy before leaving, apple still in hand.

He walks down the hallway, smiling at a few familiar nurses or doctors that pass by and they smile back before hurrying off to where they’re supposed to be.

It’s a slow night but then again, it is nearly midnight. Harry’s working in the ER for the rest of his shift and as he takes the stairs down there, he wonders if he left water out for his cat.

By the time he reaches the last step, he figures that if anything, Madison can get water herself. He’s still trying to figure out how she managed to learn how to turn on the faucet herself.

It’s as he’s humming and walking to the front desk that a group of four blokes burst in through the door, a wild look in all of their eyes.

The first person Harry notices is the one in the front, a tan man with dark hair that’s half down and half up in quiff. The man hurries towards the front desk and the blonde haired woman working there gives him a blank look.

Harry leans against the counter, biting his apple and watching as the dark haired man offers her a distressed look and glances back at the three other blokes.

After a while, another guy steps forward but this one is blonde and he looks a little calmer but not by much. “Hi, sorry; my mate here? He needs a doctor, like _right now_ ,” he informs, running a hand through his already disheveled hair.

The blonde woman is still staring blankly and Harry coughs quietly to hide his snort.

“What’s wrong with him?” she asks plainly after a moment, clicking her pen as she stares up at the pair.

The dark haired is the one to answer this time, gesturing back towards his friend who Harry can’t see from where he’s standing. “He’s got a massive cut along his arm and we think it might be _really_ infected,” he says, voice edging on panicked.

Harry is a little more interested now, leaning to the side so he can try to catch a glimpse of the friend that they’re speaking about. It works to no avail though because the blond lady swivels in her chair and turns to him before he can make any progress.

“Hey, Harry, right? Can you take a look at this bloke?” she asks, eyebrows raised expectantly.

He stares back at her in confusion before looking over at the dark haired man. “Don’t they need to fill out papers?”

She sighs, rolling her eyes before nodding. “Yes, but there’s four of them and they look like they’re in a rush so can you look at him while one of his friends fill out his papers?”

Before Harry can reply, the dark haired man speaks up, voice pitching dangerously high. “Isn’t he a bit too young to be a doctor?”

“I’m not a doctor,” Harry replies, addressing the man directly as he tosses the rest of his apple into the garbage bin next to him. “I’m a nurse. I can still take a look at his injury though and if it’s really as bad as you think it is, I’ll call a doctor.”

The man looks hesitant but then the lady working the desk says, “It’s either Harry or wait another twenty minutes for an actual doctor,” and he starts to nod furiously.

“Niall, go with Louis. Liam, stay with me so we can fill out the papers?” The dark haired man turns to his group of friends and the blond nods, walking back towards the other two friends.

That’s the first time Harry sees Louis Tomlinson. He’s hoping there won’t be a last.

“Are you fucking _kidding_ me, Zayn? I’m going to fucking die and you’re sending me off with a fucking nurse? I’m probably poisoned right now! You fucking twat, I’m going to beat the shit out of you if I get out of this hospital! I swear to fucking—“ The man immediately stops talking when he catches Harry’s eye and then he waits a moment before he lets out a heavy sigh. “Leave me here to die.”

“Stop overreacting, arsehole,” replies the dark haired man who Harry presumes to be Zayn. “Niall, let Louis lean on you.”

The blond haired man takes the place of the other man, wrapping an arm around the injured man’s waist. “Calm down,” Niall mumbles quietly to him.

In reply, the injured man—Louis—huffs and takes a step forward. “Alright then, where are we going? Will I have to walk a lot?”

Harry splutters for a few seconds because the man is so _pretty_ with his long eyelashes and high cheekbones not to mention the scruff dusting his face that’s doing Harry no favors.

It’s clear the man knows exactly how he’s affecting Harry because he smirks before his expression flickers and he starts to grimace in pain.

“Not far,” Harry reassures when he gets his mouth to work. “Just down the hall.”

After that, he turns around so he won’t get further distracted and begins to walk towards the room he usually sees patients in. He glances back a few times to make sure they’re still following him and they are, but they’re also busy whispering to each other.

He hears brief _didn’t know_ s and _safer next time_ s and he doesn’t know what they mean but it’s not his place to ask so instead, he simply holds the door open for them once they get to the correct room.

Niall sets Louis down on the hospital bed before his gaze flickers towards the door and Harry hears a hushed, “I’ll be right back. Just going to get a snack, alright?”

Louis snorts in reply and mutters, “You would,” but then after a brief moment, he nods towards the door and more firmly says, “Go ahead. Bring me something back.”

There’s hesitation written on Niall’s face but then he eventually ducks out of the room, shutting the door behind him and Harry stares at the closed door for a second before turning back to Louis.

“I’m—erm, I’m Harry. I’m going to assume you’re Louis.” He pauses for a second when he sees Louis smirk but then he continues, “Where is your injury?”

“Depends,” Louis drawls slowly and fails to cover a wince. “If I said my arse, would you still check it?”

Harry feels blood rush to his face and he bites his bottom lip before deciding to play along, nodding. “If that’s where your injury is, then yes. Of course.”

That makes Louis smile and he nods once before he gestures towards his arm. “It’s along my forearm.”

After schooling his face into something more professional than the fond face he’s acquired, Harry nods and walks closer to Louis. “Can you roll up your sleeves so I can see?”

Louis nods and starts to pull his sleeve up before he turns his arm over so Harry can see the cut.

It isn’t as awful as Harry expected and he’s pretty sure it isn’t infected as Louis’ friends seem to think it is. There’s no redness or swelling. It’s still pretty large though and it doesn’t look like any accidental cut that Harry’s seen before.

Since Harry’s never known when to not ask questions, he blurts, “How did it happen?” while taking a closer look, fingers reaching out to hold Louis’ arm in place gently.

“Some bloke knifed me,” Louis answers casually and Harry blinks up at him in surprise. “Now tell me, how bad is it? Am I going to die?”

Harry stammers, unsure of how to answer because he’s not sure whether Louis is being serious or not but eventually he manages to reply, “It’ll be fine. I think you just need some stiches. The cut doesn’t look infected so I don’t think it’s… poisoned.”

Louis lets out an actual sigh of relief and then his shoulders loosen. “Thank fuck,” he mutters before meeting Harry’s eyes. “Will you be stitching it up for me, Harry? That’s your name, right?”

Harry nods before slowly replying, “I might as well,” while still eyeing the injury. “I know I said it’s not serious but that’s still a pretty big cut. It’ll hurt a bit while sewing it up.”

“I can handle the pain,” Louis reassures before he grins. “What about you, Harry? Do you like pain?”

For a moment, Harry is too flustered to reply because Louis is awfully gorgeous and somehow even more so when he’s smiling. “Love it,” he replies without thinking and then turns ten shades darker, ducking his head as Louis laughs delightedly.

“Oh, I like _you_ ,” Louis declares before gesturing towards his arm again. “Patch me up, doc.”

“Not a doctor,” Harry corrects as he gently lets go of Louis’ arm to find a needle and some thread. “Just your average nurse.”

“Doc is more fun to say though,” Louis replies behind him. “So, average nurse Harry, how old are you? Aren’t you a bit too young to be in this business?”

Between digging through drawers, Harry almost misses the question but once it registers, he shakes his head. “I’m twenty four and I’ve got a degree. I think I’m good.”

“Well aren’t you fancy,” Louis teases just as Harry manages to find a thread to use. “I’m just a plain twenty six year old businessman. Isn’t that sad?”

Harry shakes his head while disinfecting the needle. “Nothing wrong with being a businessman,” he replies back. “What business are you with?”

This is a thing Harry does a lot—he spends more time than he should getting to know his patients. It’s fun for him. He likes to know about them because everyone has a different story and each one is important.

With Louis though, Harry wants to know more and more and he thinks that might be a little more unprofessional than usual. He doesn’t usually become this attached in fifteen minutes. He think he might be beating his own record.

“Just a lot of small ones,” Louis replies simply and then doesn’t expand. “Are you allowed to be wearing skinny jeans to work? Aren’t you supposed to be wearing scrubs or something? Why are you only wearing the shirt?”

Harry shrugs, walking back towards Louis with the supplies in hand. “My boss doesn’t mind. Now, do you need something to bite into or are you fine?”

“Will you hold my hand?” Louis asks instead, blinking up at him coquettishly and Harry startles for a second, unsure how to respond before Louis laughs at him. “I’m only joking, of course. Obviously you need both hands to sew. You’re awfully cute when you’re flustered through.”

To that, Harry says nothing but he has a feeling his cheeks aren’t going back to their normal pale color anytime soon.

He spends some time cleaning Louis’ cut and the older man keeps up a steady stream of conversation, ranging from his family to his friends.

“—and that’s why we don’t go to Olive Garden anymore,” Louis explains and then hisses when Harry gently wipes off excess rubbing alcohol. The area of injury should be numb at this point, but Harry knows that sometimes it can still hurt.

“I’m really sorry for your friend Liam,” Harry replies, biting back a smile as he grabs the needle once again. He checks over the injury one more time before looking back at Louis. “You ready?”

“Can I get a kiss for good luck?” Louis asks shamelessly and it’s weird that somehow, Harry feels almost _expectant_ of his cheekiness at this point.

He blames that on why he unprofessionally leans over quickly and presses a chaste kiss to Louis’ cheek before staring back down at his arm, avoiding his eyes.

Louis lets out an incredulous laugh, mumbling, “Didn’t think that would work,” just as Harry starts to stitch up the wound.

“Stay still,” Harry orders quietly, while a blush rises high on his cheeks. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“That’s very—fuck—kind of you,” Louis replies through gritted teeth and Harry offers him a sympathetic smile, even while his cheeks are still dusted a light pink color.

“First time?” Harry wonders, working quicker now that he’s become more accustomed to the procedure. It’s been a while since he’s stitched someone up.

“Actually,” Louis falters, blinking a few times before shaking his head. “Not the first. Probably not the last either if I’m honest.”

Harry figures keeping Louis talking is a good way as any to keep him distracted. His friend Niall still hasn’t come back so it seems it’s up to Harry now.

“How exactly did you get knifed?” Harry asks nonchalantly even though it’s been nagging at him for the entire time he’s been with Louis.

Louis lets out a startled laugh and that would be an accomplishment on Harry’s part if it didn’t make him nearly mess up the stiches. “Don’t worry about it,” Louis tells him and Harry refrains from scowling in reply.

Instead, he sighs and keeps threading the needle through the cut. “I’m almost done,” he promises when he sees Louis’ fingers dig into his thigh. “Just a few more minutes.”

“It’s fine,” Louis replies, blinking down at him. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

Harry raises an eyebrow but doesn’t glance up from Louis’ arm. “Have you now?” he wonders and his voice betrays him because it’s obvious he’s asking with genuine interest.

“You wouldn’t believe it if I told you,” Louis chuckles quietly before he hisses in pain again and Harry hums apologetically. “I guess you could say I’m a wild one.”

It takes a moment for Harry to reply because he becomes aware that Louis has tattoos all along the length of his arm. He doesn’t know why it’s taken him this long to notice—it’s possible he was distracted by Louis’ face, but _still_. There’s dozens of tattoos, ranging from a stickman on a skateboard to a paper airplane.

They’re all silly in their nature but he thinks that they describe Louis well as a person. Harry decides that he likes them.

He’s still staring when Louis clears his throat and he remembers that he’s supposed to be sewing up Louis’ cut.

Harry blushes for the umpteenth time and gets back to work, mumbling, “Sorry,” and he hears Louis laugh quietly above him.

“It’s fine. I’ve got no place to be. It’s midnight on Tuesday night,” says Louis and his free hand comes up to pat Harry’s head softly. After a moment though, his hand slips into his curls and Harry falters in what he’s doing to give Louis a questioning look.

“What are you doing?” he asks in confusion and Louis smiles down at him, eyes twinkling.

He runs his hands through Harry’s hair pointedly before replying, “Your hair is soft. You don’t mind, do you? I can stop.”

Harry hesitates before shaking his head slowly. “It’s fine,” he relents and then adds on, “I don’t mind. It feels nice.”

Louis doesn’t reply, instead playing with the curls at the base of Harry’s neck and Harry watches him for a few seconds before looking back down at his arm and grimacing.

He should be _done_ by now.

With that in mind, he gets back to work, eyebrows furrowing as he starts to sew up the rest of the injury. He’s nearly done when Louis’ hand drops from his hair and he starts to shift around.

Harry pauses, offering Louis a bewildered expression but then Louis reaches into his back pocket and pulls out what looks to be a ripped piece of a cloth.

He’s still confused when Louis gestures for him to keep threading so he does, even as he’s bemused by Louis’ actions.

When Harry finally finishes, he grabs a pair of scissors and snips the rest of the thread.

“There you go,” Harry says, stranding straight back up and brushing off his hands. He sets the rest of the thread back down as well as the needle and when he turns back, Louis is smiling brightly, holding the piece of cloth between his fingers.

“Thank you,” Louis replies before biting his bottom lip and tilting his head. “Do you mind leaning down for a second?”

Harry blinks in confusion but obliges and he feels Louis’ fingers in his hair again but this time the cloth in Louis’ hands is being wrapped around his head.

He can feel Louis’ fingers fluttering around his head before the older man gently pushes him back, eyes raking over Harry in a way that leaves him feeling slightly self-conscious.

“What did you—“ Harry reaches for his head but Louis’ hand reaches out and his fingers wrap around Harry’s wrist, stopping him.

“Don’t touch it, you’ll mess it up,” Louis scolds before offering Harry another smile. “It’s something to remember me by.”

Harry just stares at him for a beat of silence before shaking his head but then he ducks his head and smiles.

He has a feeling Louis can see it which is why he changes his expression into a more serious one and then he gestures towards Louis’ arm. “Don’t put too much strain on it. We don’t want the thread to snap, okay?” he informs before reaching behind him for the tube of cream he set out before. “This is an antibiotic to prevent infection. You should put this on twice a day if you can. You’ll have to come back in a few weeks so someone can remove your stiches.”

“Sounds good, doc,” Louis replies, grabbing the tube with his uninjured arm. “You know, Harry, I’m not really good with this remembering stuff… Do you think you could remind me to put the cream on?”

Harry just blinks at him.

Louis waits a moment before he continues, hopping off the hospital bed so he can stand in front of Harry, hands settling in his jean pockets. “The makeshift headscarf doesn’t have to be the only thing to remember me by,” he tries but Harry is still struggling to comprehend what the older man means.

Eventually, Louis sighs and rolls his eyes in a way that Harry can easily recognize as fond. “My number, Harry. Ask for it.”

“Oh,” Harry breathes and in front of him Louis snorts and grabs a pen off the table next to the bed.

Harry doesn’t have time to prepare before Louis lifts his arm and there’s a moment where he falters. The first thing he writes is _Hi_ on Harry’s upper arm before he moves a bit further down and scribbles a bunch of numbers down.

“Call me. Text me. I don’t know,” Louis shrugs and then draws a final smiley face before putting the cap back on the pen and setting it down. “If you’re feeling particularly brave, ask me out on a date.”

Harry splutters uselessly and Louis just grins, reaching up on his tiptoes to press a kiss against Harry’s cheek. “Thanks for being lovely, doc.”

Just as Louis lands back on the balls of his feet, the door opens and Niall walks back in, mouth stuffed with chips. “Done already?” he asks through a mouthful and Louis grumbles something under his breath that Harry doesn’t catch, still too overwhelmed.

“Yes, I’m done. You’re such a wanker, you didn’t even bring me any food back, did you?” Louis accuses and brushes past Harry but not before squeezing his elbow softly.

Niall just shrugs sheepishly and his eyes flicker over to Harry just briefly before settling back on Louis. “Can we go then? Are you all patched up?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Harry’s been lovely to me. Now, let’s go,” Louis replies and Niall shuffles back out the door without bothering to reply.

Louis waits a moment, standing in the doorway and when Harry looks over, he makes a gesture with his hand, mimicking a phone and he mouths, _call me_ before turning and leaving. The door shuts behind him and shocks Harry out of his reverie.

He blinks at the door before blinking back down at his arm and then almost immediately digs his phone out of his pocket, saving the number on his arm before it can accidentally wipe off.

Once he’s done that, he stares at his arm for a beat longer and then shakes his head as if that’ll clear his mind and walks out of the room, heading back to the front desk.

When he gets there, it’s empty aside from a man who’s on his phone, standing off to the side and the woman working the desk from before.

“Did they leave?” Harry asks and she glances up at him before looking back down at her magazine, clicking her pen again.

“Mr. Tomlinson?” she asks without looking up this time. “He and his friends just left. What a crazy bunch, don’t you think?”

Harry manages a nod and there’s a part of him that thinks that Louis might be one of his more memorable patients ever. Another part thinks that Louis might not be _just_ a patient for long if the way his arm seems to be tingling where Louis last touched is any indication.

—

It takes a week for Harry to get the courage to text Louis but he gets a reply almost immediately and from there it’s easy.

He doesn’t know why but it is.

Harry gets on with people well but the way he and Louis just seem to _click_ is so unusual and it’s foreign territory for Harry but as the days pass, he seems to care less and less.

There’s just something about Louis and Harry wishes he could explain it in words but he just can’t. All he knows he _likes_ Louis—likes his witty replies, dry humor and various emojis to match Harry’s own.

It’s why he plans to ask Louis out before the end of the week but somehow, the older man beats him to it, asking whether Harry he would ‘ _fancy skipping rocks w/ me Monday if you’re not working ? I’ll bring the food !_ ’ and as if Harry would ever say no.

Well, he probably should have since he has no idea what skipping rocks entitles but it turns out that it means just that. Skipping rocks.

—

“You just have to flick your wrist,” Louis instructs, demonstrating himself by tossing a rock across the lake so it skips four times before sinking into the water.

Harry frowns and tries it himself only for it to sink with one throw. “I can’t do it,” Harry announces, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Rocks hate me.”

Louis laughs quietly and shakes his head before reaching for Harry’s waist, pulling him closer. Harry goes easily enough until he’s standing right in front of Louis.

There’s a headscarf wrapped around Harry’s head, a gift from Louis at the beginning of their date and although he initially refused, Louis said, “It’s just a random thing I saw at a store. Seriously, don’t think about it too much. Just let me put it on.”

Harry was useless but to surrender to the way Louis smiled, eyes crinkling in the corners as he held the headscarf in his hands.

“They don’t hate you, Harold,” Louis replies, clearly amused as he brushes a stray curl from Harry’s forehead. “Rocks are stupid anyways.”

“You’re too kind,” Harry mumbles, ducking his head to his smile and Louis laughs again, his thumb brushing along one of Harry’s cheekbones.

“To you, maybe,” Louis agrees just as his thumb sinks into Harry’s dimple. “Not as much to the rocks.”

Harry snorts and Louis’ thumb presses deeper. “Well, I mean you _were_ tossing them into the pond so yeah, not that nice to them.”

Louis doesn’t reply for a moment, just pressing into Harry’s dimple before his hand drops and he takes Harry’s hand instead, pulling him away from the lake to the blanket he set up earlier.

At the start of the date, Louis picked Harry up in a sleek, black sports car that Harry doesn’t know the name of and then drove them _out_ of London.

Well, the place they’re at is actually about ten minutes from London but it feels a lifetime away. Here, he can hear frogs croaking and see the moonlight reflecting in the lake. It’s nice— _quirky_ even as Louis has taken to describing Harry.

“I had to impress you somehow,” Louis says and Harry blinks at him, confused before he remembers the conversation they were having. “It obviously wasn’t going to happen with my cooking skills.”

Harry licks his lips before biting on the bottom one to keep from smiling too largely and he sits down next to Louis onto the blanket, their knees touching. “I’m sure it’s lovely,” he assures quietly.

“My cooking? God no, it’s _awful_ ,” Louis informs before opening up the picnic basket. “That’s why I bought food.”

“That works too,” Harry agrees, giggling and Louis grins as he hands Harry a plate of food.

They eat then, speaking in quiet voices and Harry finds himself giving up on holding back his smiles halfway through. After ten minutes of that, he’s worried his face might break from the amount of smiling he’s doing.

Frankly, it’s Louis’ fault for staring at him with eyes dancing with mirth and lips stained red from the wine he took out right after the food.

Another thing is that Louis _listens_. Louis listens to him when he speaks, listens to his stories and instead of interrupting and telling him to hurry up, he just smiles and nods along, offering bits and pieces to the conversation when he feels like it.

Everyone always complains Harry’s stories are stupid or that he takes too long to tell them but Louis just grins and gestures for Harry to keep going.

The only time he interrupts is when he incredulously asks, “What are you even _talking_ about? You do talk some shit sometimes,” but then follows it almost immediately with, “Well don’t stop there! I want to know how the story ends.”

By the end of the date, Harry is helplessly enamored and it only gets worse when Louis takes out a container with two pieces of apple pie and shrugs, saying, “I saw you eating an apple that day.”

With Louis, everything is just so _easy_ and Harry loves it. Loves that he can giggle unabashedly and that he can tell stupid knock-knock jokes without being judged too harshly.

Instead, Louis just looks at him with shining eyes and snorts, not offering any reply.

“Are you drunk already? I only refilled your glass once!” Louis exclaims and Harry shakes his head, but then holds his glass out for another refill.

Louis purses his lips, expression considering but eventually he relents and pours Harry another drink. “That’s the last one,” Louis threatens but he’s smiling too big for Harry to take him seriously.

“Is it just me or have you gotten prettier?” Harry wonders aloud and then immediately regrets it, holding a hand to his mouth and his wine sloshes in his glass.

“Definitely drunk,” Louis mutters and then he reaches out, tugging Harry’s hand off his face and intertwining their fingers instead. “ _You_ have gotten prettier though, if you were wondering. Your cheeks are very pink and your eyes are very glassy. It’s a lovely look on you.”

Harry just giggles in reply, shrugging his shoulders.

He might be drunk. Just a little. It doesn’t matter though because nothing’s changed except that words aren’t coming out of his mouth as easily so he settles with the knowledge that he’s going to be just staring at Louis for the better part of the night.

“Tell me a story,” Harry requests, taking a sip of his wine and blinking at Louis from underneath his eyelashes.

Louis stares at him for a moment before he nods, leaning back on his elbows. “What kind of story do you want to hear?” he asks, licking his lips and Harry watches the motion absently before blinking again.

“A nice one. With a happy ending,” he manages to say or at least, he hopes he does. He’s not sure because Louis laughs quietly, eyes twinkling with mirth once again.

“I can do that,” Louis agrees and then pauses for a moment, a thoughtful expression. “Why don’t I tell you the story about a boy who did a few stupid things?”

Harry nods eagerly and Louis laughs again, a quiet sound that’s drowned out by the noises of the lake, but mostly the soft _ribbits_. Harry wishes he could see a frog. Maybe he’s the frog. Can Louis kiss him?

His train of through is interrupted by Louis clearing his throat and starting to speak up, “Well there was this boy. A nice boy. A bit mischievous, perhaps but good all the same. Sometimes, when he was bored he would join his friend and they’d go to the local convenience store, nicking a few things they shouldn’t have.”

Louis pauses, looking a bit distant and Harry squeezes his hand once gently. That seems to bring Louis back because he offers Harry a small smile before continuing. “He liked it—liked stealing even though he knew it was a bad thing to do. His family was having a bit of a hard time and he thought maybe he could make it better with the little things he took. So stupid of him, yeah?”

Harry doesn’t nod in reply; instead he just keeps watching Louis curiously.

“That’s how it started out as anyways. As he grew older, he started taking more and more and that’s when he met another friend. This friend was good with technical stuff—say… things like security cameras, even. You can guess where how it went from there,” Louis says, chuckling dryly.

“No, I can’t, actually. What happened after that?” Harry asks quietly and he sets his wine down, glass half empty.

Louis takes the glass from Harry then and downs the rest of the wine in one drink and Harry watches the line of his throat as he swallows. When he puts the glass back down, his lips look even redder in the moonlight.

“Well, the three friends began to steal from more high tech places instead of simple convenience stores. Jewelry stores, brand shops and others. Eventually, they realized they couldn’t keep doing this without another person to be the muscle in case things went wrong and that’s how they met another friend.”

“And then?” Harry sits up straight now and his free hand traces patterns into Louis’ arm, just barely brushing past the healing stiches. It takes a lot of concentration on his part.

“Then, they got reckless. They started with stealing from car dealers and art exhibits. It was soon after that the original bloke got an idea that they start stealing from banks. What an idiot.”

Harry thinks he should be making a connection of some sort but his brain isn’t working right and all he can do is hum quietly in agreement.

Louis’ other hand comes up to adjust Harry’s headscarf and he continues, saying, “He knew what he was doing was bad so after the first few successful bank robberies, he decided to donate half of what he stole each time to charity.”

“What charity?” Harry wonders mindlessly and Louis shrugs, petting Harry’s hair lightly before his hand drops to his side.

“The Harry Styles charity,” he replies simply before smiling softly. “Eventually, he started to give ninety percent of the money to the charity organizations.”

Harry blinks up languidly at Louis and nods his head once. “That’s very kind of him. He’s a nice guy.”

“Did you miss the part where he stole millions and millions?” Louis teases and then he shivers when Harry runs a finger along the stitches.

First Harry grins at the reaction he got out of Louis and then he shrugs, shaking his head. “I didn’t miss it… it’s just—maybe he’s stealing but it’s not as if he’s keeping it all for himself. Without him, the charities wouldn’t have nearly as much money as they do. We all want to change the world and he’s doing it in his own way. Everyone makes mistakes and his don’t make him a bad person.”

Louis watches him carefully, looking astonished and Harry starts to smile but then he starts to feel a bit dizzy. “I think I’m drunk,” he admits and Louis shakes his head, blinking a few times before he smiles like he isn’t sure he’s allowed to.

“Let’s get you home, doc,” Louis replies, untangling their fingers so he can put away their plates and glasses. Once he’s finished with that, Harry watches as he gets to his feet.

When he offers Harry a hand, he takes it eagerly and gets to his own feet but then nearly collapses onto Louis who catches him in time, laughing quietly. “You’re a lightweight,” Louis mutters in his ear and then lets Harry lean against his side while he gathers the blanket and basket.

After that, Louis drives him home and then helps him up to the door of his flat. “Think you’ll be okay from here?”

Harry just hums, nosing at Louis’ neck and the older man sighs in a way that seems fond. “You’re a menace,” Louis whispers and Harry giggles quietly before pushing him away.

“I’ll be fine,” he reassures but he thinks he does a bad job of it because he nearly trips over his own feet and falls over, only managing to stay upright because Louis grabs his arm. “Fine,” he repeats again, blinking a few times.

Then Harry digs his keys out of his back pocket and unlocks his door, stumbling through the doorway. He turns around and Louis is standing there watching him, eyebrows raised.

Harry grins brightly and leans over to kiss his cheek. “Thank you for the nice night,” he says—or tries to.

Louis smiles back softly and nods his head. “Likewise. I’ll see you soon, doc.”

“I look forward to it!” Harry exclaims and then throws a hand over his mouth, eyes shifting from side to side. When he sees Louis’ amused expression, he whispers, “The neighbors are going to kill me,” and then shuts the door in Louis’ laughing face.

He doesn’t know much of what happens after that but when he wakes up nearly four hour later for his shift, he’s asleep on the kitchen floor and his head is throbbing.

Harry doesn’t really regret it.

—

For some reason, the next day Harry doesn’t get any texts back from Louis.

Harry’s at work though, so he doesn’t get a chance to check his phone often—although he probably could. All his coworkers love him. Still, he doesn’t and it seems that’s a good thing because it’s not as if he gets any texts back anyways.

He wonders if perhaps he messed up the night before on their date and the end of it is a bit blurry in his mind, so he isn’t really sure. He hopes he hasn’t done anything wrong—he’s already too attached to Louis for his own good.

During his break, he ends up in the faculty lunchroom and once again, the news is on. He just then realizes it’s been two weeks since the first time he met Louis.

The reason he realizes is that is mostly because there’s another news reporter gesturing towards a bank and beneath, the caption is **_TOMMO STRIKES AGAIN! 50 MILLION???_**

Harry lifts his eyebrows, slightly astonished. That’s a _lot_ of money. He knows they’ve stolen more before but he thinks about the fact that he makes less than a hundred thousand every year and feels a bit insignificant.

Suddenly, Harry’s phone starts ringing, startling him.

He makes to grab it quickly, eyes darting around the room before he remembers he’s the only there. With that knowledge, he takes his time to pull his phone out of his pocket.

The second he realizes it’s Louis calling though, he’s back to rushing to get the phone up to his ear. “Hello?”

“Harry! Hi!” Louis basically shouts into the phone and Harry blinks in surprise before holding the phone away from his ear. “Do you want to come with me to a charity football game?”

“Erm,” Harry falters, still trying to process how loud Louis’ voice is on the other end. “When is it?”

Louis lets out a laugh that Harry isn’t completely sure is for him and then Harry hears a bunch of screaming in the background. “Saturday morning. How about it?”

In the time it takes for Harry to think back on his schedule, he hears someone on the other end yell, “Oi, Louis, make it quick! I’m not going to jail because your arse couldn’t wait two minutes to talk to Harry!”

“Sounds great,” Harry replies quickly, eyes wide in confusion and on the other end, Louis laughs again as if he can see Harry’s bewildered expression.

“Wonderful. I’ll text you the details. Now I’ve really got to run but I’ll speak to you soon, doc,” Louis says and there’s a squelching noise that Harry thinks might be Louis blowing him a kiss through the phone.

Then the line disconnects and Harry is left staring at his phone dazedly.

—

“Why are people staring at you?” Harry wonders quietly, ducking his head under the gaze of dozens of people. They’ve been inside the stadium for all of _two minutes_.

“No reason,” Louis replies but then he stops walking to shake hands with an elderly man who grins at him brightly. “Nice to see you.”

“Likewise, Tomlinson,” says the man before turning away to a different person.

Harry balks at the man and turns back to Louis with an incredulous expression. “Who _are_ you?”

“Louis Tomlinson,” he replies simply, smirking and then gently nudges him in the other direction, towards the concession stand.

“And why, Louis Tomlinson, does everyone here seem to know you?” Harry asks in a way that might be a little demanding but mostly still incredulous.

Louis doesn’t reply for a moment, instead speaking to a boy behind the counter who immediately comes back with a tray full of food and two drinks. “Here,” Louis says, handing Harry the drinks before taking the tray himself. The line behind them is watching with the same disbelief Harry is.

“What is going _on_?” Harry mutters mostly to himself but Louis laughs ahead of him before leading them to a small doorway that ends up being a staircase.

Of course, the stairway leads them to the courtsides seats—the ones Harry is a hundred percent sure are more expensive than his weekly paycheck.

The second they sit down, Harry turns to Louis pointedly. “Explain,” he deadpans, attempting to look as serious as he can. It doesn’t seem to work because Louis just laughs again because tapping Harry’s nose.

“Explain what?” Louis asks instead of replying, looking thoroughly amused.

Harry sighs before gesturing widely towards the stadium. “What is this? What’s going on? Who are _you_?”

Louis purses his lips before finally breaking into a smile and he shrugs, brushing his shoulder against Harry’s. “I’m the club owner.”

“The… club owner?” Harry repeats blankly before it occurs to him what Louis means. “The _football_ club owner? Do you own this football club?”

In reply, Louis simply winks before gesturing towards the nachos on the tray. “Want a nacho, cutie?”

Harry splutters uselessly in reply and Louis uses that as an excuse to shove a nacho in his mouth, all whilst laughing delightedly. “Lou _is_ ,” Harry protests and Louis simply brings a finger to his own mouth and makes a shushing noise before turning to the game.

For the rest of the game, Louis doesn’t offer up any more information and Harry resolves to Google him later. It’s as good a plan as any.

The only thing that stops Harry from demanding answers from the source itself is that Louis keeps a firm hand on his thigh and occasionally reaches over to whisper in Harry’s ear. It’s a very successful tactic to keep Harry distracted and it’s not as if Harry doesn’t _realize_ what Louis is doing because he does.

It’s just that he chooses to give into the distraction. That’s probably a bad choice on his part but Harry’s forte is making awful decisions so it’s really no surprise.

Madison agrees when he tells her later that night. Or, Harry assumes she does if the way she mewls with unblinking eyes is any indication.

—

The next date they go on is when Louis invites him over for dinner with his friends and Harry thinks maybe he should refuse but inevitably ends up agreeing.

That results in him panicking an hour before Louis is supposed to pick him up, wondering what he’s even supposed to wear to an event like this.

He’s not sure if this is a casual dinner or a formal dinner—whether he should dress up or whether he should dress in jeans or just— _what._

Eventually, he decides to dress in a button up shirt and his nicest pair of jeans. He thinks that should be good enough.

Louis picks him up in a different car than before and Harry doesn’t even comment, just rolls his eyes expectantly and sits down in the passenger seat.

“You look spiffy, doc,” Louis compliments in a teasing tone and Harry scowls lightly, which in return makes the older man laugh. “I’m being serious. You clean up nice.”

“Thanks,” Harry replies dryly before reaching over to turn the radio dial to a station he likes. He’s flickering through the station when Louis’ fingers wrap around his wrist, stopping him as he flicks to a local news radio station.

Harry raises an eyebrow but Louis doesn’t say anything, just stares ahead as the reporter on the radio starts to speak.

“After Tommo’s theft last week, authorities are still trying to recover pieces of evidence but nothing was left as per usual. Despite the actions taken to protect banks across the city from this thief, it proves of no value because every two weeks, he always manages to sneak right past everyone’s noses. Is there a key to his plans being successful or is it all a product of careful scheming? Visit our site for more theories—“

Louis changes the dial back to a pop station and hums in a way that leaves Harry bemused.

“You alright?” Harry checks for good measure, expression uncertain and Louis nods, but his knuckles are straining against the steering wheel.

“I’m great, Harry,” he reassures, looking a bit distant before he shakes his head and offers Harry a small smile. “My friends are really excited to meet you.”

That quickly reminds Harry of what their current situation is and he makes an uneasy sound. Louis turns to him, looking slightly bemused and Harry ducks his head, flushing. “What if they don’t like me?”

Louis laughs suddenly, shaking his head. “Love, I promise they’ll think you’re great.”

It’s not as reassuring as Louis probably intends for it to be and Harry pouts, attempting to cross his arms but then getting caught up on the seatbelt which makes Louis laugh again.

Harry comes to the realization that the car has stopped when Louis reaches over and undoes the seatbelt for him, fingers just barely brushing against the bare skin of Harry’s waist where his shirt is riding up.

“You don’t even do this intentionally, do you?” Louis muses quietly, licking his lips as he watches Harry. “You’re just always this endearing. It’s your _thing_.”

“I don’t have a thing,” Harry replies petulantly and Louis just smiles, pressing a kiss to Harry’s cheek that leaves him feeling flustered, face tinted pink.

Then Louis gets out of the car and before Harry can comprehend the situation and get out by himself, Louis is opening the door and offering him a hand.

Harry rolls his eyes again but takes Louis’ hand anyways and gets out. When he sees the restaurant that they’re at, his mouth goes dry.

“We’re—we’re at—” Harry stammers, blinking up at the sign above the restaurant in disbelief and Louis takes his hand, squeezing.

“ _Trovi Amore_ , yeah,” Louis finishes the sentence for him. “It’s Zayn’s favorite restaurant. Personally, I like Chinese takeout but Zayn fancies himself an Italian model.”

In return, Harry stares at him for a beat of silence before asking, “ _Is_ he?”

“God no,” Louis replies, snorting. “He could be though. He’s got the cheekbones for it. My cheekbones however—well, I’ll get there someday.”

Then Louis sniffs haughtily and Harry blinks a few times before breaking into a smile and shaking his head. “Isn’t it impossible to reserve a table here?”

“Nothing’s impossible,” Louis informs, winking before he tugs Harry’s hand lightly and leads him to the front doors of the restaurant.

When they get inside, Louis tells the hostess that he’s under the name _Malik_ and almost immediately, she’s leading them to a table.

There’s only two people sitting at the table when they get there and Harry instantly recognizes them from the night at the hospital. There’s the blonde man— _Niall_ and then another brown haired man who Harry assumes must be _Liam_.

“Louis!” Niall calls, grinning widely and gesturing towards the seat next to him which Louis immediately takes but not before pulling Harry’s chair out for him.

“Niall,” Louis greets with a smile and then he nods towards the other man. “Liam.” He pauses for a moment before he gestures towards Harry. “This is Harry.”

Liam offers him a friendly wave while checking his watch absently.

“It’s really nice to meet you. Louis hasn’t stopped talking about you,” Niall informs, smirking and Louis sighs, bringing a hand to his forehead as Harry giggles quietly.

“The night’s just begun and you’ve already embarrassed me,” Louis murmurs, exasperated and Niall snorts, shrugging his shoulders. “Never mind that, where’s Zayn?”

Harry suddenly realizes that’s who’s missing and also probably the reason for Liam insistently checking his watch every few seconds.

“He’s late,” Niall deadpans, rolling his eyes. “No surprise there.”

“True,” Louis agrees before turning to Harry. “Do you want to order before he gets here? It’s not a big deal.”

Harry simply shakes his head, licking his lips and fidgeting with the sleeve of his shirt. “It’s fine,” he assures quietly before smiling over at Liam and Niall. “Louis told me a lot about you too.”

“Oh, has he?” Niall asks, clearly delighted. “What did he say about me?”

“You’re really good with technology, right?” Harry tries, a bit unsure in case he mixed Louis’ friends up but then the hundred-watt grin Niall gives him assures him.

If that didn’t do it, Niall’s vigorous nodding would give it away. “That’s me. You ever need a hand with something like that, I’m your guy.”

Harry opens his mouth to reply that he’ll probably need it when someone takes the seat next to him.

He turns to the side and the dark haired man from the hospital— _Zayn_ —is sitting there, looking slightly out of breath.

Louis squeezes his hand next to him and whispers, “This is Zayn, my partner in crime.”

Harry laughs quietly just as Zayn apologizes, “Sorry I was late. I was taking care of some final details for our—the plan, you know.”

That makes Harry furrow his eyebrows but before he can question what ‘the plan’ is, a waiter clears his throat from behind Liam.

From there, the night is slightly wild in Harry’s opinion.

Louis’ friends are insane but in the best way Harry has ever known. Niall is constantly filling every pause with laughter and Liam sits there looking like he’s trying to be serious but then he breaks into a grin anyways and Zayn offers quick witty replies to Louis’ loud, brash jokes.

Harry doesn’t know why but he feels almost at home with them after just one dinner and by the end of the night, they’ve all traded numbers with him and to quote Niall, “Even if Louis is acting like a tosser, just give us a ring and we will happily complain about him with you.”

It’s different than what Harry is used to.

From a young age, it’s always been study, study and study. He was fully prepared to become a doctor just like his parents but in his final year of secondary school, he decided that maybe he doesn’t want to be a doctor after all. Maybe he didn’t want to follow in his parents’ exact footsteps.

So instead, he decided to be a nurse and there’s not a day that he regrets it. His parents fully supported him then and they still support him now.

The only thing that makes him a bit sad is that all those years in school, he’d never really taken the time to make friends. There had been a study buddy or two but there was never really any friends to hang out with in his free time. It could be because he’s slightly socially awkward or it could be because all he did back then was think about his grades.

He doesn’t think about it too much nowadays but that’s probably a good thing.

Right now, Harry is slightly amazed at the fact that all of Louis’ friends really do like him after all and what’s more amazing and has been since the first day he met Louis is the fact that _Louis_ likes him.

However, there is something slightly off-putting and that’s that occasionally, all of them would just shut down and stop talking. Harry isn’t sure if there’s a certain trigger but one of them will say something and suddenly, all of them will grow silent until Harry breaks the silence uncertainly.

It’s a bit strange but Harry doesn’t ask because it’s not his place to.

In the end it doesn’t really matter because Louis drops him off and leaves but not before pulling him in by the neck and kissing him goodnight.

Harry considers it a successful day.

—

He goes on a lot of dates with Louis after that.

They go to the movies, to amusement parks, to museums, to concerts, to dinner, to anything and everything and before Harry knows it, they’ve been dating for three months.

Harry is probably the happiest he’s been in a long time and it’s not that he was _unhappy_ before but Louis brings out a side of him that he didn’t even know was there.

When he’s with Louis, he feels young and stupid and reckless and so, so in love.

That’s probably not normal—to fall in love so soon but Harry knows it every time he sees Louis smile and every time he hears Louis laugh. It’s something he just knows and he wonders if maybe it’s fate that Louis came into the hospital that one night.

He likes to think it is.

—

The first time Harry starts to become suspicious is a Sunday night when he’s staying over at Louis’.

He fell asleep on the couch earlier in the night and when he wakes up, he hears Louis on the phone not far away.

“No, no. It was forty five million last time and forty two the time before. There should’ve been over seventy eight million pounds donated,” Louis insists, sound vaguely distressed.

Harry stirs slightly, blinking his eyes open and he sees Louis’ bedroom wall instead of the television in his living room.

The light in the bathroom is on and shines from underneath the doorway so Harry assumes Louis is in there and he wonders if he should get up but then decides against it just as Louis keeps talking.

“Tomorrow is forty eight million. You know how Zayn gets with the computational side of this. The math is better left to him,” Louis replies to whoever’s on the other end. “No, the one on the south side of London. Niall did security checks last week.”

Harry blinks in confusion and sits up, a blanket slipping off his shoulders and pooling at his waist as he rubs his eyes with his hand.

“Yeah, I’ll take care of it. Make sure the right amount of money was donated. Check with the charities if you have to,” Louis instructs sternly and Harry can almost imagine the way his eyebrows are raised. “Okay, that’s wonderful. Goodnight.”

The light in the bathroom goes out then and Harry immediately lies down, pulling the blanket with him. He has a feeling that maybe he shouldn’t have been listening in.

He hears light footsteps coming towards him and then the bed dips as with Louis’ weight. Harry only has to wait a few seconds before there’s lips pressing against the top of his head and then one arm is thrown haphazardly around his waist.

It takes him a while to fall back asleep after that, his mind buzzing with curiosity but eventually, he manages to sleep.

—

He grows more suspicious the next day when he’s working a late shift and during his break, there’s more news on the infamous Tommo.

The banner beneath the news reporter says forty eight million pounds was stolen and Harry balks in confusion before turning to Ivy who’s paying little to no attention.

“Er, do you know where that bank is?” Harry asks hesitantly and she glances up from her magazine to give him a dry look but then she glances over at the television.

“Somewhere in south London,” she replies indifferently and then starts to read her magazine again without offering Harry a second look.

Harry thinks back to the night before and he remembers snippets of _forty eight million_ and _south side of London_ on a loop.

He bites his bottom lip and then before he can think twice, he takes out his phone and sends Louis a quick text. _Hey, Lou, how was your day?_

It may as well be the most formal text he’s ever sent Louis but it doesn’t seem to matter because his phone buzzes almost immediately.

_Great babe !how was yours ? meet any cool patients ?_

The text makes Harry feel bad because Louis seems genuinely interested in his day whereas he’s asking simply out of suspicion.

 _Nah, there will never be a patient cooler than you._ Harry falters a moment before adding _What did you do today?_ even though he knows he should just drop it.

His phone buzzes again and Louis replies with _Just hanging out with the boys ! Niall says hi !!_

At that point, Harry’s break is over and he doesn’t get to reply for the remainder of the night. That’s alright though because Louis is the one to pick him up and he does so with a bright smile and Harry feels bad for the rest of the week for even slightly doubting Louis.

—

The thing is that it doesn’t stop there.

After that one moment of doubt, Harry starts to notice things he didn’t before. He starts to notice the way Louis sometimes disappears for hours at a time, the way he doesn’t seem to really participate in any of the businesses he talks about working with, the way there’s always weird notes lying around with words that don’t make _any_ sense to Harry whatsoever.

And it’s like—even if Louis is actually on England’s Most Wanted list, Harry doesn’t really seem to care. He thinks maybe he should care. It might be a question of his morality or it might be a question of how much he just fucking loves Louis.

It’s all just really weird and Harry doesn’t pretend to understand but then one night it all just sort of collapses.

Mostly because Harry has no brain to mouth filter.

—

“Tommo?” Harry wonders, point blank.

Louis doesn’t even flinch, nodding without looking up from his phone. “What’s up, Haz?”

“Tommo?” Harry repeats almost incredulously, eyes wide and Louis still hasn’t looked up, typing away on his phone.

“Yeah, babe, what’s up? You alright?” He asks, lips pursed as he types something else. He finally looks up then and his expression shifts from confused to guilty. “Shit.”

“You’re the Tommo,” Harry says, voice loud in disbelief and Louis’ lips press into a thin line.

Neither of them say anything for a moment but when they do, it’s Louis that breaks the silence. “I probably should have told you sooner, shouldn’t I?”

Harry just gapes at him, unsure how to respond as his brain tries to work through the fact that Louis actually _is_ the Tommo. That his assumptions are actually _correct_.

“Taking that a yes,” Louis says, biting his bottom lip and then he sighs, putting his phone down and sliding over on the couch so he’s right in front of Harry. “I’m sorry.”

In reply, Harry just blinks incredulously. “I’m dating a criminal. My boyfriend is a criminal.”

“Criminal is a _big_ word,” Louis protests weakly and then Harry sees hesitance written on his face before he takes Harry’s hands in his own. “I just take things sometimes.”

“Is that what you call it? How much money have you taken in the past _year_?”

Louis doesn’t reply at first and Harry has to take a moment to let it all sink in. The entire time he’s been dating Louis, he’s been out there stealing millions and millions of pounds.

In fact, probably half the things Louis owns were paid for with that stolen money. Every single thing Louis has ever bought Harry, every single thing Louis has ever paid for in front of him. All of it was with stolen money.

But then, Harry remembers their first date—remembers being incredibly tipsy but also he remembers the story Louis told him and suddenly, he doesn’t feel as bewildered.

He wasn’t ever really upset about it as much as he was about the fact that Louis didn’t tell him but now he realizes that maybe Louis did tell him, in small ways that Harry was too oblivious to catch on.

“Nearly a hundred million,” Louis replies in a small voice and Harry blinks in confusion before it occurs to him that Louis is answering his question.

Harry inhales sharply and he has to look away for a second before he can look back. “You just— _how_?”

To that, Louis laughs quietly but Harry doesn’t know what’s funny. “Zayn and I are partners in crime for a reason. Niall and Liam are pretty helpful too but I have no idea where I’d be if Zayn didn’t help me figure everything out.”

“All of you are just—“ Harry doesn’t even know what to say so he stops mid-sentence, speechless.

“Yes,” Louis agrees, licking his lips. “I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.”

Harry continues to stare at him speechlessly and Louis sighs, bringing one of Harry’s hands up so he can brush his lips against Harry’s knuckles. “I know it’s awful and I know I shouldn’t be doing it but I don’t know if I can stop but if you want me to, I can try.”

That startles Harry out of his shock and after a moment, he shakes his head slowly. “That’s not—I don’t want to ask you to stop doing what you love,” he breathes.

When Louis just squeezes his hand and murmurs, “But I love you too, doc,” Harry comes to the realization that he doesn’t _care_ if Louis steals or not and even though Harry’s never been one to break the rules, he thinks with Louis he can.

“You love me?” Harry repeats with wide eyes, slightly doubtful and Louis nods.

“I do. That’s why if this is too much for you to handle I can try to stop or… I guess you could leave but I have every intent of chasing you if that’s the case,” Louis teases, voice light and playful but there’s still underlying insecurity there and Harry can only stare in awe.

“I’m not—I’m not going anywhere,” Harry reassures, after a moment and his voice cracks. “And I’m not going to ask you to change who you are. I couldn’t do that. I love you too much to do that.”

It takes a moment but Louis’ hands go slack in his and suddenly, he’s the one staring wide-eyed at Harry. “You love me too?”

“I do,” Harry manages to mock but then he has to blink to make sure he doesn’t cry or something like that. “I guess money isn’t the only thing you steal.”

Louis falters, tilting his head and he asks, “What do you mean?”

Even before he says it, he knows that it’s cheesiest thing he’s ever going to say which is saying a lot but he decides he just doesn’t care. “You stole my heart.”

Just as he expected, Louis breaks into sudden laughter and then he leans up and presses their lips together, softly and his hands drop Harry’s in favor of curling around his neck, playing with the curls at the back of his neck.

“And I will steal us a car,” Louis informs when he pulls away, eyes bright. “And we will drive to the stars. In fact, I’ll give you the moon, it’s the least I could do.”

Harry can’t help the giggle that leaves his lips and with it, all his worries fly right out the window. He knows they’ll have to talk about this more and figure it out but right now, all he does is shake his head, burying it in Louis’ chest. They have time. They'll work it all out. “Don’t steal anything for me.”

“I’m a thief, Harry,” Louis reminds, running his hands through Harry’s hair before he adjusts the headscarf around Harry’s head. “Or maybe you are, since you stole my heart too.”

And it’s true.

Louis stole Harry’s heart a long time ago but somewhere along the way, it seems that he stole Louis’ heart too. Harry doesn’t have near as much experience with actual hearts as the other nurses he works with, but what he does know is that the way Louis makes his heart skip beats isn’t normal.

Then again, he doesn’t think he and Louis have ever been normal. As Louis would say, they’re rather _quirky_.

“I guess we’re both thick as thieves then.”

“Yeah, I guess we are. Now do me a favor and _kiss me_ , you fool.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos feed my nonexistent children. :-) My tumblr is [lourrynavy](http://lourrynavy.tumblr.com) and my twitter is [deepestIove](http://twitter.com/deepestIove) if you want to drop by and say hi!!!


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